The wretch was so taken aback that he was utterly unable to defend himself from this rear attack, and an instant later he lay sprawling and stunned upon the pavement, Gerald having dexterously tripped him.
“Now, sir, lend a hand, if you please,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the astonished man whom he had probably saved from a violent death.
“Certainly, certainly,” he replied, quickly recovering himself, and, darting forward, he planted a powerful knee upon the breast of his fallen assailant. “I am sure I had not a suspicion that he would dare do me any violence,” he added. “What was he up to, anyway?”
For answer Gerald held the sand-bag up before him.
“Good heavens! what a wretch!” said the gentleman, in a startled tone. “He is a distant relative—a worthless fellow—and has been a leech upon me for years. But I reckon this business will settle his fate for a while. Now, if you will go to the corner and call a policeman I will manage him while you are gone. Take care, there!” he added sternly, as the prostrate villain began to squirm and struggle, and he enforced his command by a powerful grip upon his throat.
Gerald darted away, and five minutes later came hurrying back with a guardian of the peace, who immediately took the highwayman into custody.
Then he learned that the name of the man whose life he had doubtless saved was Richard Morgan Lyttleton, a noted lawyer, of New York.
The officer demanded his name and address also, telling him that his presence would be required in court on the morrow to testify against the culprit.
Gerald smiled to himself as he thought of appearing so soon again in a criminal-court, and he observed, when he gave his name, that Mr. Lyttleton started slightly, and glanced keenly at him.
Then the policeman marched his prisoner off, when Mr. Lyttleton turned to our hero and cordially extended his hand.